


In Shadows

by FemailoftheSpecies



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemailoftheSpecies/pseuds/FemailoftheSpecies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow was proactive in making Spike feel better when no one else cared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Shadows

The silence is deafening. I know it’s cliché and something read in books since like forever, but in this case it really, really is.

My eyes don’t adjust to the darkness quickly enough for me and as I stand here, feeling vulnerable and exposed in the inky blackness, a shiver rips through my body. I’m glad no one is around to see it and I feel like a total goof.

It suddenly occurs to me that I'm very foolish for coming and thinking I can make something better for him when everything has all fallen apart, for us all. I sigh and turn to leave, a little confused about which direction that door might be, when I see him.

He’s just a shadow, but the moon plays on his hair, giving him away.

“What do you want, witch?” he asks and I just know he’s been watching me the entire time.

“Uh, Spike, I…well there was Xander and the flowers and I know you didn’t leave a card and weren’t coming in and I just wanted to say that I, um, I get it…understand, you know?”

Way to go Rosenberg! How is it that he can still make me tremble in fear when I know he’s pretty much harmless and doesn’t even want to hurt us anymore? I can’t see his face as he’s still cast in shadow, unwilling to let me see his expression. 

He’s good for that, hiding behind his mask of indifference. We all see through it, but it’s his delusion so whatever. 

But that loud hush is there again and despite my own resolve to wait him out, I speak.

“Spike…a-are you okay?” I'm so not proud of the stammering.

There is a derisive snort as he immerges from his murky darkness. As usual, I have to struggle against an urge to inhaled deeply and step back from him…or closer to him, sometimes I don’t know which, but examining that would lead to badness so I don’t. I’m brave like that.

“Her mum is dead, pet. She was the only one of you that gave me a fair chance. So no, I am not…okay.” He rolls his eyes and turns away from me, in favor of a bottle of amber liquid, probably scotch or whiskey, which seem to be his favorites. Why I know this is another thing that can’t be explored. And did he just say…?

My eyebrow goes up and I wonder if he has forgotten the many times he tried to… oh…eat me!

“Are you having one of those really convenient selective memory day? I mean… you did try to kill me.”

He swigs from the bottle and twists around, his considerable gaze settling on me, making me squirm a little.

“I never tried to kill you. Not really,” he admits sullenly.

“Uh…bottle in face, fangs in neck…oh, and let's not forget the broom closet on Parent Teacher night.”

He’s frowning and tilts his head. I can hear my inner “aawww” because he looks like a puppy. Then comes my inner “slap across my face” for thinking such dangerous things. 

“You were in there with the cheerleader. I knew it, Red, could smell you, and deliberately took a long time getting to you. I could have ripped the door off and drained you both before she came to your rescue. And as for the those other times…you weren’t going to stay dead for long, pet.”

The shiver returns. His voice is thick with sadness and I wonder if it all has to do with Buffy’s mom. 

“Spike, that’s not flattering. I mean…it is kinda, but not really, ya know?”

He only nods, but looks unconcerned. 

“So why're you here?”

I fumble for something and can only come up with the truth so I blurt it out, as I am prone to do.

“I just wanted to tell you that Xander was wrong and I thought the flowers were nice. She would have like them…especially coming from you.”

He looks at me and at first it’s disturbing, but I soon get why. He is surprised. None of us have gone out of our way to befriend him and that makes me sad. After a moment he nods again and I know things are just a bit better for him and I turn to leave.

As I walk home, I don’t acknowledge the vampire that stays to the shadows and has seen fit to be certain I arrive there safely, but I think I appreciate him all the more for it.


	2. Beautiful

The clenching in my heart is easing. The further I get from Revello Drive the better I can breathe. It's too hard, watching Dawn cry for her mother one minute and be mean to Buffy the next, Tara fawning over them both, which is only natural, but upsetting just the same, so I leave. Telling them I need to check in with my parents, who flew in for the funeral, I take off and just start walking. 

I wrap my arms around me, to fight off the chill that comes over me. It's not particularly cold out this evening. This is only my body rebelling against what I suddenly realize I intend to do, but as I pass over the path we all traveled earlier today, I straighten my back and push forward, determined. 

He is there, as I knew he would be. He looks like a statue, standing over her grave, staring down at it, daring her to stay buried. From this distance and in this darkness, I cannot discern if there are tears on his face, but I don't expect any. 

He's got a chip, not a soul. 

Nonetheless I know he cares, as much as the situation allows. And I know he is hurting. 

He doesn't move an inch, just stares with his hands shoved in his pockets. I wonder how he is able to do it, freeze like that when he is so hyper and animated normally. 

And isn't that weird? The undead guy is animated, more so than most people I know. 

His form of grief only distracts him for so long and when he does move it's to look directly at me. 

Busted, I step out from behind the trees and go quietly up to him. 

"I thought I'd find you here," I say as a greeting. 

"Why aren't you off with the bereaved...bereaving?" he asks, stepping back from the edge of the mound of dirt. 

"I am." 

He looks at me then and I am once again struck by the confused puppy gaze, like he doesn't get it or maybe doesn't get me. 

"She was a good woman. Reminded me of my mum," he says softly and I wonder what happened to his mother. Did he kill his family like Angelus did or did Angelus kill them for him, like he did with Drusilla? I don't ask and I'm afraid of the answer. 

"I get that. She was more like a mother to me than my own really. Sometimes I think I'm just a project to my parents," I admit to him, although I have no idea why I am sharing this. Spike is evil and will eventually use that against me one day. I shrug in my mind, not really believe that anymore. 

I can see that he is affected by my admission, but then his wall comes up again and his feelings are closed off to me. I don't ask why he even reacts to how my parents treated me and again I'm afraid of the answer. 

"What is this, Red?" 

I am surprised and a little pleased that I have been upgraded from witch to that nickname only he uses. 

"I...uh, this is a cemetery..." His glare is nothing short of unnerving. "I didn't want you to do this alone." There is a slight softening in his eyes, but his jaw remains firmly set, clenching in silent anger. "Buffy...We had each other." The rest is left unsaid. 

"I don't need your bloody pity." He is sullen again, but so very proud. 

It's the demon in him talking, forever able to deal with pain on its own terms. But I'm not concerned with that part of Spike. 

"And you don't have it." I tear my eyes away from the intensity of him in favor of the headstone, reading the inscription again. "I can't be around them, the way Dawn acts...and they won't even talk about her." 

I gaze up at him. "I can talk about her with you. You're not afraid to remember her." 

He seems to accept this and I know that it's his own desire to be needed that allows him to be fooled by my lie. I do want to talk about Joyce and the others are skittish whenever I bring up a happy memory of her, but it's still very soon for them and that is not why I am here, standing next to a demon over my best friend's mother's grave. 

The real reason is terrifying. 

There is another bunch of flowers, placed carefully over the dirt. They are pretty and he took great care in picking and arranging them. I lean over, selecting one of the oleanders and bring it to my nose. Its fragrance is only slightly diminished by death and I smile into it. 

"It's beautiful, Spike." Steeling my nerve, I turn to him as he eyes me curiously and I place my hand on his chest, over his unbeating heart. "Like you are...in here."


	3. Overtly Transitioned

The bell above the door of the Magic Box rings and we all look up, except Buffy. She probably can feel him, being the slayer and all. Xander and Anya look away without speaking; Xander never does, unless it’s to be mean. Buffy doesn’t even peek up from her book and Giles goes back to his hushed conversation with the council. I’m sure Spike can hear every word said.

We make eye contact and I smile at him, shifting over a little to make room for him at the table we’ve all gathered around, but he declines, with a slight nod, acknowledging me in a way that seems almost gentlemanly. 

Dawn bounces in from the training room, Tara behind her. When she sees Spike, her eyes light up. 

“Spike!” she squeals, rushing over to him, stopping short of hugging him. He appears ready to bolt if she does and I think she senses it. But she is bubbling nonetheless, her crush on him ever-present, as she talks about her day at school in a way that she refuses to open up to the rest of us anymore. Tara comes close. She mothers Dawn, which is probably what the child in her needs right now.

And Spike eats up the attention, giving as good as he gets, making Dawn feel special and grown up. He doesn’t talk down to her. I’m guilty of that, bombarding her with something so close to babytalk that someone should really, really slap me silly. But I’m not great with kids, not bad, just not great. It’s not a flaw in my character, but one in my parents. I never had little siblings or cousins to play with and therefore learn to manipulate without them knowing they were being…manipulated.

My parents think the majority of our family are a little uncouth and old worldy and expect them to taint me with their bad habits. And what would happen to the world should something despoil their precious project? It could end…or it could try, but Buffy would stop it.

“Spike.” Giles is off the phone and addressing our favorite whipping boy. He doesn’t make eye contact with the blond for long, his glances fleeting and purposeful. “I’m glad you stopped by.” 

The vampire’s eyes move from Dawn, who is now frowning at sharing his attention and fast approaching sullen. Buffy finally looks up from her book and notices Dawn sitting on the stairs by her nemesis. I can just see the wheels turning in her head as she figures out how to get her sister away from him without causing a scene since Spike is actually behaving tonight.

Spike just looks skeptical, but waits for Giles to explain. He knows the watcher wants something. He always wants something if he’s talking to Spike.

“The council has provided us with some rather useful information and a lead. I need you to go over to this address.” Spike reluctantly rises from his perch and takes the paper as Dawn storms off to the back room again. Buffy’s lips press together tightly and there is something dangerous in her eyes. 

Giles goes on. “There’s an older gentleman, not entirely human by all reports. He may know about Glory. According to my contact, he may be one of her worshippers, as ludicrous as that sounds.”

He starts for the door and I am hit by an urge that I can’t tamp down before I react. 

“Wait…”

All eyes turn to me. Since I didn’t actually _mean_ to act on my thoughts I am kinda lost now regarding what to say in response to the questioning eyes, and raised eyebrows.

“I, uh, just think that right now, none of us should be going off alone.” I’m standing up. When did I stand up? And my book bag is over my shoulder.

“The evil undead can handle it alone, Wills.” Xander replies, motioning for me sit again.

“Yeah, and if we’re real lucky something will dust him, right Xander?” I stare at him, daring him to say it, before turning to Spike. “Let’s go.” Tara is giving me a look, one that tries to eat at my conscience because I know something is happening and so does she.

He’s scowling a little, but opens the door, holding it as I step through and he follows.

I imagine Buffy will come running out behind us, but she doesn’t. Spike lights a cigarette and stops a few doors away from the Magic Box.

“What are you doing?”

I frown and reach for the slip of paper containing the address. I don’t recognize the street. “Nothing…which way?”

He points to the left and we start again, me hugging myself against the chill, him hugging himself because no one else does.

“No point in going there,” he mumbles around his cigarette. 

“Why?”

“Guy ain’t human, but if he is a Glory groupie, then going there asking about the bitch will just tip him off…and her.”

We keep walking, both knowing we won’t be completing Giles’ little mission.

“I miss her,” he says. I nod sadly and the conversation goes from there, as he starts to talk about his various encounters with Buffy’s mom. He was irritated by her at first, because she saved her daughter from certain death, but he admits to admiring her as well. 

Somehow, I take over directing our movements and we end up in front of my parents’ home. I figure I can get a good night’s sleep here. They left two days ago and won’t be back until summer.

His hands go into the front pockets of his jeans and he suddenly looks like a guy on a date who is debating whether to go for a goodnight kiss.

A startling surge of heat goes through me and I think I’m blushing. Stupid, stupid hormones. This is a guy, Willow. Okay so he’s not a human guy, but he still has all the guy parts and I am sooo not into those…right?

“Well, I’ll be off to my crypt then.”

“No...I mean…you don’t have to go. I’m not sending you away.”

His eyes narrow and I am reminded of him telling me that he was going to kill me…no choice in that.

“Why?”

His voice is deep, absent of all pretenses. He just wants to know. Truthfully, so do I.

“Well,” I say while unlocking the door. “I have hot chocolate…and tiny marshmallows.” I grin at the smile he gives me. He doesn’t smile like that often and I feel kinda gooey to have received it.

Walking in the house I call out behind me, “Come in, Spike.”


	4. Trust Holds Promise

I’m nervous. I’m about to cast this really powerful spell and even though Tara will be there to help, it’s kinda scary. It’s always scary when I know the entire gang is relying on me to pull something off, but tonight is worse.

The spell will strip this demon, a Hingdura, of his magically rooted powers, one of which is the harnessing and storing of sunlight and being able to shot rays of it from its mouth at will. Bad enough the thing has four arms, and horns, and eyes on all sides of its head, but a Binaca blast of ultra violet rays as well? Totally not fair.

Buffy can’t fight it alone and Spike can’t fight it at all until I do my part, which is why I am so much more nervous than normal.

If I fail, Spike could dust.

We are all walking through the woods just outside of town, slowly, Spike and Buffy leading the way. We’re following his nose, which is seems retarded, but it’s amazingly accurate. I can tell he is being careful as well, not wanting this demon to catch us before we catch it.

Coming to a group of caves, he slows down and says something to Buffy before slipping away into the cover of the trees. I glance at Tara and smile. 

It’s showtime.

Giles helps us lay out the materials and I make a circle, enclosing Tara and I quickly within its confines and safety. I can feel the magicks being pulled from everywhere, especially my girlfriend, as soon as I start to chant in Latin. I hate Latin.

Buffy and Xander have ventured into the cave. He is armed with one of Riley’s weapons and a stun gun. Spike assures us that the latter works great. And since I am not a vampire, I believe him. I hear the commotion, spilling from inside one of the caves and wonder about the children the demon has abducted, but keep my focus on the spell.

Xander comes flying out, hitting a tree with a sick thud, and I almost lose it. Tara’s hand on my thigh restrains me and I don’t do what I want and instinctively jump up to help my best friend. Settling back down, I concentrate. This needs to get done…now.

With a violent influx of power, there is nothing else for me but the spell and my focus, the reason I want it to work so desperately. I can feel him, lurking in shadows, antsy, anxious to get into the fight, and his demon crawls over me, probing, curious as I use its power as well. I hope he doesn’t mind. I’m just a power-leeching mama. 

There is nothing of me left to stop the vampire’s ghostly intrusion; all I am is wrapped up in the spell. I can’t stop it and am not entirely sure I am trying. 

Somewhere, far away, I feel a hand on mine and I force my eyes open. Later I am told they were black abysses, empty and frightening, but I don’t see it myself and can’t imagine it at all. Fortunately, the spell is done.

Tara and I both collapse and as I lose consciousness, my eyes follow Spike as he dashes into the cave, trusting that I did my job.

 

~~~*~~~

 

When I awaken, my head is resting in someone’s lap and I’m in Buffy’s living room. 

Tara. I can smell her perfume and snuggle into the softness of her thighs, feigning sleep. I just wanna lay here for a few more minutes.

They are talking about tonight’s slayage. Ding-dong, the demon’s dead. I hear them all, except Spike.

I open my eyes to see Xander with a bandage around his head and his arm in a sling. Nothing new there.

“Were the kids okay?” I ask, drawing attention to myself.

“Hey Willow...we got them out, all safe.” Then she’s frowning. “You were out a long while this time,” Buffy says as she comes and perches on the edge of the coffee table, twisting to look at Giles as she adds, “You said she’d be okay.”

He looks sheepish. “I, well, the spell required a certain amount of power and Willow is certainly capable of harnessing it. I’m not sure why she was so affected.”

It’s like I’m not even here. I sigh and lay back some. “I’m fine. Where’s Spike?”

“Oh, he was all grumpy vamp because the Humdinger skewered him so he went to his crypt,” Buffy offers dismissively.

I lean up. “It did what? Giles, does this thing carry toxins?”

He shakes his head, but looks unsure, like he hasn’t considered this. I am sitting up and can feel Tara’s hand on my shoulder. 

“Does he even have blood?”

“How should we know, Wills?” Xander tosses in as he gets his coat on, with Anya’s help.

I get up and go into the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator are bags of blood and I take them. Tara is behind me when I turn around.

“You’re going to him.” Her tone it light so I don’t respond to the hidden meaning and just kiss her softly on the lips, pleading silently for her trust.

“I won’t be long.”


	5. Rise to Grace

His crypt is better lit when I enter this time. He's standing there, jaw clenching, clearly disturbed by my presence. 

“Um, here...some blood. They told me about the-” I trail off as he takes the blood with a grunt, which I'll consider thanks, and heads to a microwave that he has set up in an area that he's designated as his kitchen. 

I walk around while he heats it and ignores me. The place is not bad looking for a house of the dead. He has a sofa, a big soft chair, a few throw rugs, and a television. The kitchen has a small dorm refrigerator, a hot plate as well as the microwave. 

“How do you get water?” I ask, my voice sounds particularly loud against the silence. Is it always this quiet here? 

He takes his mug of blood and goes to the couch, which is where he was before I came in, I suppose. “Don't need water," he replies, resting his head on the back of the sofa. He is tired. Healing must take something out of him. 

“Oh...how do you wash dishes?” I say, pointing to the mug that he is using. “Or shower? I mean, you never smell bad, I mean unless you and Buffy fought something stinky, then hey, you _both_ are kinda down with the stinky, but normally...no, so I figure, you know, you needed water for that.” 

I don't like the look on his face. I'm sure he'll say something mean and kick me out soon. After all, he is grouchy vamp tonight. 

“You did something.” 

I don't understand and am about to say so when he explains. 

“That spell...you did something.” His eyes narrow as mine widen. “Just before Giles gave me the okay to go in, I felt you...all over me and in me, stealing from me. What was it, witch?” 

Downgraded back to a generic name, I sigh and take a seat that he hasn't offered me. 

“It's just me, my magic. I needed more power to strip his away. Tara was already tapped. You were the next logical choice. I don't have any control over that, Spike.” 

I expect yelling and swearing, obnoxious vampire style, but he just sits there, sipping the blood, a strange look underneath the pleasant human features. 

“What's wrong?” He's too darned agreeable. 

“Nothing. Getting late. Best you go. Lot of nasties out there.” 

I nod and stand, but instead of going to the door, I lean over him and press my hand to his abdomen, touching the black cotton tee. It comes back stained a pinkish red. 

“Gods, Spike,” I gasp while lifting his shirt. Annoyed, he tries to pull away, but hurts himself more. “Stop it. Be still.” 

I don't let him push me from him and he doesn't exert much effort. Eventually, I have his shirt off, revealing a pale expanse of perfect solid muscle, marred by a deep angry wound, that presumably goes through him. The flesh around it is reddened and warm, totally not okay. 

“Why aren't you healing?” My voice is a whisper and the question is rhetorical; I know he has no answers. But I wonder if the Hingdura is poisionous to vampires or if I took too much from him and his demon, the mystical, magical part of him, is just slowed down. A groan from him tells me where it's paining him most. 

“Spike...I have some stuff in my bag. I wanna try to help you.” 

His eyes meet mine and I hope he finds what he's looking for so that he will let me do...something. After nearly a minute of his silent interrogation, he relents and I go to work making a salve. 

He remains still, only moving to light a cigarette. 

“You know that second hand smoke kills,” I tell him while debating whether to add some of my own blood. 

“Boo, bloody hoo.” 

Nope...none of my own blood. 

“Whatever, Mr Cranky.” The mixture is done and I begin spreading it over the hole in him. He leans up to sitting so that I can get the back and then I wrap him up in gauze. 

He seems more at ease already, his jaw is not so tightly clenched and he is not breathing which is normal for him. 

“Better?” I smile at him. 

“Yeah...You're a regular Marcus Welby.” 

I'm sure my eyebrow goes up. He says the weirdest things. British. 

“I'll assume that's a good thing.” I gather my goodies and clean up the mess as best I can as he watches. Something about him watching; I like it and find it unnerving in equal parts. 

“Downstairs.” 

I stop what I'm doing and look at him. “Huh?” 

“The water. I've a line for a shower and basin downstairs.” He motions toward a large hole near the rear of the room. Its darkness is only slightly darker than the shadows there. A twinge of fear creeps over me and he smiles, smelling it, I'm so sure. 

I roll my eyes at him and grab the items that need washing along with a candle. “I'll be back.” 

“Thanks, Red…for this.” He's done teasing, for the moment. 

“It's alright, Spike, you're welcome.”


	6. Hookey

The sunlight beats me to the backdoor that enters onto Buffy’s kitchen. I’m racing the dawn unconsciously, only realizing this when I see that I’ve lost. Up the back stairs quietly, I peek inside through the window and the curtain that never completely covers it. 

Empty.

Good. Sometimes Buffy is still up after a hard patrol, wound tightly and annoyed, and I so don’t need to see her. But dealing with the slayer, even in a funk, is easier than going to the dorm and Tara. She is being all super sensitive and I feel guilty for being the cause. Not that I did anything wrong. Nope…zero on the wrongness, but she looks at me with those big doe eyes and I respond like the kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I’ll miss my classes, but I’m ahead in the reading anyway and sleep is more important.

I use my key that I’ve had since Joyce died and go in, careful to be stealthy while appearing nonchalant, in case someone catches me.

But luck is on my side, it seems, and the entire household is still asleep.

I can’t believe I stayed overnight with Spike. Spike! 

I mean, this is the same person, or whatever…person, that tried to kill me numerous times. Let him tell it, he was not trying very hard to kill me nor would he have left me dead. 

Can I get an amen for behavior modification technology? 

Yet I had the most amazing time. At first, things were weird, awkward, what with him being run through with a demon’s horn and all, but we got over it and actually talked…about non-helmouthy, non-magick things.

He’s intelligent. I’ve always known he was not stupid nor close to it, but he’s very knowledgeable in what is going on in the world today, the world in which he lived as a human, and so much stuff in the middle. I think I embarrassed him by asking so many questions.

Can a vampire even be embarrassed? 

The climb to the second floor is done as I mull over all that he and I discussed. I’m smiling to myself about something he said and don’t hear the door open.

“Willow?”

My head jerks to the right and I see Buffy.

“Oh, hey.” I stop short, but think it wiser to keep going and do just that.

She frowns and leans out. “Have you been out all night?”

“What? No…I came in,” I stretch and yawn for affect as her eyes narrow. “And fell asleep downstairs.”

There’s a weird look on her face as she debates whether she believes me, but I slip into the spare bedroom before she can inquire further. 

~~~~~*~~~~~

Giles sticks Spike and I together on patrol. Tara is with Buffy. His new thing is balance of power. One witch and one super powered being per team. 

Yesterday, Anya and Xander were around and we had Xander on our team. Yeah, that didn’t work out so well so tonight they’re watching Dawn and researching more on Glory. 

He just dusted a small nest of vampires inhabiting a crypt not too far from his own and turns to me, grinning as he lights up.

“That’s nine for me and three for you, Red. You feeling all right?”

“Yeah…I’m good. Just, I don’t know…bored, I guess.”

We walk along, until we come to the edge of this cemetery. There’s one more to do then we can sweep by downtown.

“Wanna play hookey?”

The question sounds absurd coming from him. 

“Hookey.”

He frowns and pulls me by the hand, stomping quickly. “Yeah, hookey. I don’t know…you said you were bored. And anyone out this late bloody well deserves to be eaten.” 

My eyes widen and I pop his arm. “Don’t even joke!” But he’s not joking and yeah, how stupid can the entire population of Sunnydale be? If they’d act a little smarter, we could have a few more nights off. 

“Okay,” I smile, “Hookey it is. What do you wanna do?”


	7. Practically Hunting

The night is clear, but cool so we stop at the Espresso Pump at his insistence. He can be like a mother hen about me eating properly and dressing warmly. It’s odd because I never realized that he noticed that much about me at all. Spike is full of surprises.

I get a cappuccino and he orders hot chocolate with marshmallows. The waiter smiles at him indulgently, but doesn’t say anything condescending for which I am grateful. Only a small section is open for seating this late so we are stuck by the window. He grins, enthusiastic, when the drinks arrive.

After a few sips he turns thoughtful.

“She made this for me,” he says quietly, and I know who ‘she’ is without asking. “As soon as I’d come through the door, she’d put a fire on and pull out the ingredients, talking about her day as she went. And never that soddin’ instant crap. Always milk and real chocolate…and tiny marshmallows that she kept in a high cabinet hidden from the Niblet.” 

I let him go on about her, amazed by the affection I see in his eyes. He says something and makes us both laugh, because if he doesn't we are going to cry, people around or not, and we get up to leave. Spike pays the check and I wonder where he gets his cash, but don’t ask. He’s being very sweet recently and I don’t want to rock the boat.

“I have an idea,” he says and grabs my hand. I really have to explain to him about the yanking me along thing. But for now I’m nervous and ask him about his idea, but he’s being cagey, gathering things, not letting me see what he’s doing. This could be very bad.

Well, turns out that hookey, for Spike, aside from drinking cocoa, also includes placing paper bags full of dog crap on someone’s front porch, torching it, and ringing the bell several times.

“I…Spike! You can’t do that!” I protest as he drags me away and into a bunch of bushes. “It’ll catch fire to the hou…” 

A strong hand, and I can’t really explain how strong because it’s pretty scary for someone to be that powerful, anyway a strong hand is clamped over my mouth, cutting me off mid-sentence, while he shushes me quietly. I highly resent being told to shut up, in any way, and try to stomp on his foot, but his darned vampire reflexes save the day….uh night.

The front door swings open, and as much as I thought I was appalled, I’m watching and waiting just like he is, minus the maniacal grin that he is sporting. Apparently, he feels me giving in and relaxes his hold on me.

The guy at the door is yelling about the fire and to call 911 when he stomps on the bag, like an idiot. Hot poop flies everywhere. Behind me, Spike is giggling like a goofy kid, his chest brushing against my back, and he nearly looses it as the guy figures out what he is splattered with. And did I mention that Spike is pressed against me?

I don’t have much time to think about that. He pulls me away and we leave the bushes undetected, running around the corner.

“I positively love doing that,” he says as soon as his laughter subsides enough for him to form a sentence.

“Spike…” I want to say something appropriately grown-up and chastising, but I end up laughing as well. “Did you see his face?”

“Yeah…it was worth smelling that shit, it was.” He lights a cigarette and walks off, something on his mind just that quickly. I’m starting to be able to read him better. He goes quiet at odd moments. Sometimes he’s just thinking, other times he’s bothered.

“What’s wrong?”

He looks over at me, a little startled, like I shouldn’t notice, and takes a drag before answering. “Nothing’s really wrong, just a bit different, is all.” I watch him and he explains further. “I used to do that little trick to get a bloke to step outside the house. Hunting technique.” He glances away.

“Oh.” I doubt he feels guilty and I suppose he shouldn’t. Maybe it’s nostalgic for him. “So how was it, you know, without the ultimate yummy goodness?”

He chuckles and seems to consider my question, weighing this experience against previous ones. I wait patiently. Finally, he speaks, tossing the smoking object away.

“It was good. Not better, coz nothing is really better than fresh, hot sweet blood, slipping down your throat, the erratic pounding of a dying heart forcing it into you…” His eyes close for a few seconds and when he opens them they are gold for an instant before reverting to the human blue. “Sorry…I was saying it was good, mainly because I had someone to share it with.”

And then he stomps off on his own, knowing that I’ll follow.

I’m beginning to think I’ll follow him a lot of places.


	8. Damaged

Glory took him. 

That skanky ho’ took him and… goddess he’s so broken. Giles and Xander dropped him off at his crypt earlier, not too concerned about him healing. They never are as long as he can take the next beating for us. 

So I find myself sneaking through the graveyard, yet again, to make sure he’s okay. Sometimes I wonder about my friends. 

I don’t bother knocking since I’m pretty sure he can’t make it to the door without a lot of pain. Besides, he knows I’m here. I’ve discovered that his vampiric senses are a lot keener than we understand. He actually smells the blood inside us, can tell the difference between us by that scent, hears heartbeats a block away and a lot more weird stuff.

I go in and close the door. He’s laying on that sarcophagus and tilts his head to see me.

“Now’s not the best time, Red. Not really up to entertaining," he grunts, moving to sit up.

Rushing to him, I drop my bag and place my hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to lay back down. “Shhh…don’t get up.” One eye is swollen completely shut and he’s cut and bruised and bleeding in so many places. I turn away so he doesn’t see the tears, and although I know he smells them, we can pretend.

“First I’m gonna do a healing spell. I don’t know if it’ll work on you, but it won’t hurt, okay?” I look at him for a sign that he will argue, but he’s pretty agreeable right now. 

I do the spell, concentrating on his internal injuries, and then try to clean him up. It’s frustrating going down that ladder and bringing up fresh water and after the second trip I make up my mind.

“Can you walk?”

“Rather not,” he sighs.

I fidget, shifting from foot to foot. “I…we’re going to my parents' house.”

He turns to look at me. It’s easier, but clearly not easy.

“What’s with the pronoun confusion? I’m staying right here and you’re going to toddle off to your witch.”

I can’t help the frown that spreads over my face. “No you don’t! You don’t get to play martyr and be all miserable and alone. It doesn’t affect them, doesn’t make them feel guilty or bad or anything!” I shout, pacing. “In fact I’m pretty sure they get some satisfaction out of it, which doesn’t speak well of them, I know, but I’m being honest here, okay?”

He rolls his eyes and slides up into a sitting position, dangling his legs over the edge of his bed.

“It only bothers me!” I admit, and feel some of my anger flee from me. It’s a relief, but I’m hoping I don’t need it to convince him. “I get all sad, in here, when you are.” I place my hand over my heart and his head tilts as he watches. “So you’re coming with me…now…a-and who sleeps on cold concrete anyway, Spike?”

 

~~~*~~~~

 

Getting him to my parents' house proved difficult and annoying, but he is here now, soaking in a hot bath of herbs and oils.

I pick up the phone and make the call that I have been dreading, mostly because I am going to lie.

“Hi, Sweetie.” I try to sound cheerful.

“Willow, hey... where are you?” She sounds worried…yippie, I sigh.

“Oh, I’m, uh, at my parents'. I forgot, they asked me to be here in the morning and sign for a package. It’s supposed to be really important and I...”

“It’s okay, Willow. D-do you want me to come over, hang out with you?”

“No, I’m all right. I’ll have some reading to do anyway. But I’ll see you in lab, right? Or do you wanna meet for lunch first and then go?”

“Okay, lunch sounds good…in the DC?” 

“I’ll be there by 11:30, okay?”

She agrees to this and we exchange telephone smooches before hanging up.

“Are you two always that sweet, Red? I’m feeling a diabetic coma coming on.”

I nearly jump out of my skin and whirl around on him.

“Spike!” He's grinning. “It’s soo not funny…” Anything else I am gonna say dies in my throat. He’s only wearing a towel and I think I’m staring.

“We forgot to bring me a change of clothes.” That explains his near nudeness, not that I required an explanation. I just wish I could stop with the staring.

The bruises are still there, deep purple, and several gashes are healing, but not close to gone. Aside from that I really, really like the package.

“I don’t have blood,” I manage to say something and it’s goofy and stupid and so not the subject.

He tilts his head and leans in to look in my eyes. “Actually, you do, pet.”

I stare back, lost in icy blue darkness for a few seconds, shaking my head a little to clear the fog. Was that thrall?

“Ohhh, but I meant, you know, no bags, or butcher’s blood.” He chuckles and steps back, giving me space. And gosh, it’s so hot in here!

“No worries, Red. You’ve done enough for me. I feel better already.” He walks out of the kitchen and into the family room. It’s not with his normal cocky gait, but a slight limp, and I frown as he settles into the blankets I laid out for him.

“But could you do it? I mean, if I let you, or wanted you to, could you?”

He’s frowning, clearly having moved on from a topic in which I got stuck. “Could I what?”

“Drink? From me?”


	9. Victorian Sensibilities

He takes a step back from me, wary.

 

“What are you playing at, Red?”

 

I have to gather my courage this time in order to repeat it, so taking a deep breath, I let him have it. “Well, I know the chip stops you from hurting people, but there is a level of hurt that you can give without it firing. Believe me, I’ve felt it…And I was reading some of Giles’ books that he keeps hidden in his office about, well, how feeding and hunting and, uh, sex, are uh, all you know, well you really do know, um, it’s tied together for vampires. So I was thinking that it really can’t hurt that much, a bite I mean, unless you want it to hurt, if you do it, you when you, um, do it.” 

 

I finish with a sigh and glance up at him. Spike seems to be thinking this over and suddenly grins. “So you want me bite you while shagging,” he reiterates, eyebrow cocked just so.

 

“Yes…I mean no! I just…I think that you can heal better if you have human blood and, hey, 100% human here.” I can’t actually tell him that I’ve wondered about this since Angel bit Buffy. She never mentioned pain, at all. So when Harmony took a chunk outta me and it hurt so much, I just had to do some research. Hence, this experimental test. Goddess, I can almost believe my own lies. I bite on my bottom lip while he paces, running his hand through his damp hair.

 

“It’s curly,” I say, grinning and probably sounding too much like awww-cute-puppy so he stops to glare and me, making my face fall. “I’ve got gel here somewhere,” I offer quickly as I scowl. It seems to appease him for the moment and he goes back to pacing. Geez…him and Angel and their haircare issues. 

 

“Red…you don’t bloody understand, do you? What you’re offering me?”

 

“Yeah, blood. Mine.” I roll my eyes and then feel the need to clarify. “Not a lot or anything, but enough.”

 

To say that I am surprised when his hands clamp down on my upper arms tightly and he lifts me off the ground is to say that Drusilla has a little problem paying attention.

 

“Your blood given to me! The kind of bite it would have to be so that it didn’t hurt you…” His sentence trails off, the small tantrum over, and he sets me down, releasing me, and slips away from me.

 

“Spike,” I sigh, “I don’t see the problem. It’s only blood.”

 

“Only blood,” he repeats and can I just weigh in here and say that I hate it when he does that, as if what I’m saying doesn’t sound stupid enough the first time. “All right then.” He gets a look on his bruised face and I’m pretty sure I don’t wanna know what he’s thinking.

 

“All right what?” I ask, feeling like this is the old Spike and I am about to be tricked.

 

“What you said…all of it. I do want to bite you. You’ve know that since the bloody chip stopped me. So let’s do it.”

 

This is what I wanted, right? “Oh…okay. What do I do?” 

 

It takes every ounce of my resolve to stand there while he walks up to me. “You bleed.”

 

He inhales deeply and I don’t know what he’s sniffing for, but whatever it is, it seems like he likes it because he gets this dreamy look on his face before settling those baby blues on me.

 

“Let’s sit on the sofa.” He takes my hand and leads me to the living room, dropping onto the couch and pulling me down on his lap. Okay, not exactly what I planned, but it does feel nice and does he have on underwear? 

 

“Relax, Red. Not gonna bite...well actually I am, but you're stiff as a board.”

 

“Okay, say this works. What’s to stop you from, you know, draining me?”

 

“Bloody chip’ll kick in if I try to harm you. Death constitutes harm, luv.”

 

I nod, mostly convinced that this will go well, and take a cleansing breath. Meanwhile he seems bent on rearranging me so that I am straddling his lap and face to face with his naked skin, skin so translucent that there are tiny blue veins marbling the pale canvass of his flesh. 

 

“If you get skittish, tell me and we’ll stop, all right?” I nod again and try not to squirm. 

 

I wait for him to start, but am still startled when his hand comes to push a curl behind my ear. His finger trails down to my neck and I shiver at his touch, fear I think, but kinda not the same as when he was sniffing my neck in the factory that night. This feels almost nice.

 

His other hand is snaking up my spine, creating all kinds of sensations that I thought were strictly Tara-induced. My back arches and I wiggle on him, as his face falls into the opening of my blouse. He kisses the curve of my breast and I pull back as he lifts his head to look at me. 

 

Hungry. Hungry for me, as if I am the only thing that will sate his desires, his passions, his thirst. Something inside me flips and clenches and I wiggle again, pulling him to me, eyes still locked until our lips meet.

 

The pounding of my heart is audible to me; for him it must sound like a drum. Blood rushes through me, burning me, and we kiss. His lips are softer than I expected and I wonder briefly why I had formed an opinion at all, given my latest preference. 

 

Hands roam my body, touching, caressing and squeezing in all the right places. I can’t breathe and tear away, sucking in great gulps of air before he snatches me by my hair and pulls me back to him.

 

Devouring me...and I like it, want it, can’t think of anything but him and what he makes me feel. Gods, I’m hot and wet and I know he can smell it because I can and I can feel what this does for him as well. What I do for him. He is hard and grinding up into me. We break the kiss as my head falls back and I rock my hips, ready to take off my pants and let him inside. 

 

Then his mouth, cool, but burning on my neck has me moaning and I feel exposed and needy. I want this as much as he does...maybe more. And we rock and thrust and pant and moan until I’m getting just the right friction and fangs slide in as I cry out, much to my later embarrassment, coming right on his lap. I buck, out of control really, as tendrils of pleasure flow through my body and I’m floating. He holds me still with hands that have no right to be that strong and I feel the blood leaving me, making me tingle and pulse between my legs and I hope he is more aware than me because there is no way I’ll ever stop him. 

 

But he does stop, and his tongue alternates between licking and kissing my neck as I come down and stop shaking. 

 

I feel really lazy, but manage to open my eyes. He is gazing at me, a look of longing on his face that I’ve only previously seen directed at Buffy. My hand comes up to touch his cheek and that’s so very soft and hard at the same time. I’m suddenly cognizant of the fact that I just made out with Spike, let him bite me, had an orgasm and want to have sex with him more than anything else.

 

I lean in and kiss him lightly on the mouth. “I...that was very...” I say and then his hands are on me again and at first I think I’m about to get my wish, but he just lifts me off of him and I stand clumsily. 

 

“Best not. I'll shag you right here if we continue.” 

 

He stands and gives me a look that says he’d much rather shag me than be noble, and walks up the stairs, leaving me alone with my thought and my way too ragey lust. I wanna go after him, especially when I bring my hand up to check for blood and get all panty as soon as I touch the place where he bit me. 

 

But I don’t, and I silently thank him for being a gentleman.


	10. The Truth is the Light

So we fight. Nothing major that we can’t get over, but I am super royally pissed right now and she can just go to the fair without me. 

I’m stomping my way across town, the original destination changing once I remember that Buffy is having some alone time with Dawn. She is being kinda bitchy with her recently, but I’ll worry about that later. Right now I am in me mode. Therefore I, once again, find myself in a graveyard, but at least it’s not the middle of the night. As soon as he was well enough he left my parent’s home and came back here, although I don’t know why. His excuse is that my “bird” was giving him funny looks and he does not want to stir up trouble, which is a crock of...patootie. Spike always likes to stir up trouble. Not for me so much, not lately, but he can still stir with the best of them. He has a special spoon just for it.

The door to his crypt seems thicker and as I knock, my hand stings from its solidity. The heavy steel is cracked opened within seconds and I am beyond expecting any additional invitation. It’s not his way. 

Inside is dark and cool, a nice change from the midday warmth, but my arms instinctively wrap around my body. It knows there is a predator near, even if my mind chooses to ignore that fact. I can’t see him, but get the feeling he is to my left by the wall so my eyes seek him out, first finding the blond locks and creating the outline of his image easily from there.

“Hey. I came by to see how you are.”

“Been worse.” He shrugs and moves toward the hole in his floor leading to the lower level. Sullen...I think. With him I can’t always be sure.

“I woke you.” I realize he had been sleeping and suddenly feel stupid. Of course he is sleeping. “I should go.” But my feet don’t take me toward the door.

“Up now, ain’t I,” he mumbles as he drops through the hole as if disappearing. I hear him land softly.

“Show off.” I groan as I struggle to get down the ladder without breaking something. 

Walking the cavern, he lights several candles, casting the room in a warm, golden glow before climbing on his bed. I join him, noticing his bruises are much smaller and lighter and that the swelling over his eye is nearly gone. My hand goes up to touch his cheek, but I pull it back, unsure that the contact would be welcome.

“You look a lot better.”

“Yeah, feel better. You were a proper nursemaid...and that delicious blood of yours didn’t hurt.” The smirk is there, fighting to the surface, but he manages to hide it. “What happened with that earthy, magic to-do? Aren’t you supposed to be there with Glenda?”

I glance at my hands. “Uh...yeah, she went. I came here.”

And I can practically hear it when his head tilts. “A tiff then?”

“Yeah, apparently she thinks I’m all playing at being gay and that this is just a thing for me. Oh, oh! And my power ‘frightens’ her.”

“Well, you are bloody powerful, Red. You just don’t know how to use it all yet.”

“But why would she be scared?” I ask and I’m whining, I know, but I feel justified and want some sympathy. Spike’s will do nicely.

Instead he laughs. “She’s not scared of you, pet, she scared for you.”

“Okay...still doesn’t explain her thinking I’m a flake about my, you know, sexual preference.” Why did I whisper that? Luckily, he lets it go.

“Well, I’d wager she senses something. Three days ago, I was about to shag you rotten, luv, and you were not waving your little rainbow flag to stop me.”

I huff a little, annoyed that I don’t have a comeback. “That was different. There was blood and you... with the lack of clothes and the curls and it was really warm that day...” There, point proven...or not.

“Right.” The eyebrow does its thing even in this dim lighting. “So you argue with your girl and you come here why?”

I groan and flop back onto his bed. “I don’t know...I just wanted to see you. You know, talk...about stuff.” No need to tell him about the stupid tingles that are sweeping over me this very moment. He has more than enough to deal with already. Just look at how busy he is...flaring his nostrils?

“Are you sniffing me up?” 

He immediately stops and a mask of innocence covers his face, like a curtain falling on the stage, hiding what’s behind it.

“I don’t know what you mean. I was breathing.”

“You don’t breathe,” I tell him as my eyes narrow. Then suddenly he drops the act and grins lasciviously.

“I do when there is something scrumptious in the air,” he confesses, letting me know that he knows about the tingles....which, surprise, causes more tingles.

“I am trying to have a serious conversation about my gayness and you are not helping,” I scold him and hope it will be enough to make him drop the subject.

“I am helping, Red,” he says, his tongue resting behind his teeth, peeking out at me to say hey. _Tease!_ “I just don’t happen to think that you _are_ gay. But I’m more than happy to help you work that out.” 

It’s hard to know if he is playing or serious. A huge, horny and huge, part of me wants him to be serious and set me straight on the subject once and for all. And then there is the stubborn part of me that wants to make a statement and be different and prove Tara wrong. 

His hand caressing my arm decides for me and I think that I am such a ho-bag. 

“All right, Spike. Show me the light.”


	11. A Day Late ~ A Dollar Short

Humming, I make my way to the Magic Box. It’s not that far from Spike’s crypt, but far enough for me to have time to think. 

Thinking may not be the wisest thing for me right now, not with all these conflicting feelings that I’m...uh feeling...about Spike. Spike’s hands, his tongue, his lips. And what had Buffy been complaining about lips of Spike for? I can’t find any fault with them...at all. 

No fault in the way those lips skim over my body, softly teasing me into laughter or tears.

No fault in how he kisses with unbridled passion that promises adoration for an eternity.

No fault in the cool shivers his lips evoke as he suckles on the mark that I’ve had to hide from the others.

No fault in the words that fall from his sweet mouth, words that make me squirm with desire for him.

No fault at all.

Ignoring the part of me that wants to turn around and have him teach me another aspect of my heterosexual ways, I turn down the street and see the Magic Box and it all comes crashing down.

What have I done? Again. 

Tara loves me, I know she does and I love her. Why did I run away and let her go to the fair alone? She was only concerned for me and a little scared for herself. And I ran straight to him. Something that she fears, that I want him, and I made it true. Because I do want him. I burn up inside thinking about him and she can’t make the thoughts go away. But I do love her and want her as well. Doing those things with Spike...it doesn’t change that, right? Wanting to touch him, wanting him to touch me, doesn’t make me want Tara any less. Love her any less? 

Goddess...I’m a skanky ho-bag. Just like my vampire self. There’s no escaping it.

I swing the door open and that annoying little bell rings as I walk down the steps and stop in front of Giles. He’s working, as usual, on something _“utterly important and not to be put off”_...I’m sure. But he stops and seems concerned when he sees me.

“You all right?”

“Yeah,” I sigh.

He gives me a look and does that British sarcasm thing. “Ah yes, because your good mood is both obvious and contagious.”

I go on to explain about the fight with Tara, of course I skip the part about me jumping right into Spike’s pale, muscular, powerful arms as soon as I get pissed at her...

Goddess...is it hot in here?

Well, I’m beginning to feel a little better just saying this stuff to someone, when Giles yanks open the back door and a scabby, Glory minion falls into the shop.

Anya comes around and stares. We both are doing our fish-out-of-water impression and I’m shocked, but mostly angry that the thing interrupted my nice little talk with Giles. He’s old and may have some valuable advice to impart. 

“Oh, he’s one of those things that work for Glory!” As usual Anya states the obvious and I feel like I am stating the obvious by stating that Anya states the obvious...hmmm. 

Oh goody, maybe Giles is gonna torture it!

But before he can, the ugly creature starts to blab away and I find myself pouting and wishing Spike was here. He would torture it even if it does talk and I can so understand. Glory did torture him.

It tells all and we are stunned to discover that Glory knows who the key is. Giles moves to call and warn Buffy.

“Too late. Too late. Glorificus will find the witch, and there's nothing you can do to stop her.”

“Witch? What do you mean?” Anya asks, not understanding the obvious which is also so very normal for her.

“Tara!” I yell, running to the exit.

Giles offers to come with me, but I tell him to check the dorm in case she didn’t leave.

“...I’ll check the fair.”

And then I’m gone. I’m inclined to stop and get Spike, but there’s no time. As it is I know, deep down know, that I am too late, or I will be.

My legs can only go so fast, but eventually I come to the entrance. A guy is there collecting tickets and just don’t have time to stand in line to buy one so I do a little spell, casting a glamour that makes me invisible to him for a moment and slip right in past him. 

As I call out for her, people give me the annoyed looks I expect, but it still doesn’t set well. It’s not like I’m making that much noise. Luckily, no one says anything...I might just turn them into something and I’d be very sorry later. As it is, I have a boatload of regret going for leaving her like that.

I’m getting frantic so I stop, forcing myself to calm down when I see them, on a bench near the merry-go-round, and I begin the spell.

“By force of heart and mindful power, by waning time and waxing hour ...”

People walking along the path block my view and Goddess I can’t see her anymore! But I keep chanting.

“I echo Diana, um, when I decree ... uh, what is it, what is it?” Please, oh please...I can’t remember! What the hell...what is she doing to her?

“No! No!” I scream, running toward them as the words come back to me. “That she I love must now be free!”

My view is obstructed again as a Chinese dragon made up of a train of people float in the way, but I know. I’m too late. Glory has hurt her, done something to her, and when I finally reach Tara she gives me a blank stare and begins mumbling nonsense and I cry, although she isn’t even aware of it.

And Glory will pay.


	12. The Fall Is Sweet

So the bitch didn’t pay, at least not like I wanted her to.

And boy am I lucky that Buffy showed up when she did, cause I think spitting in Glory’s face might have been a little more than the God of Sunnydale could tolerate. I’m told that I slowed her down and weakened her enough for Buffy to hurt her, but I still feel like I failed. 

Failed Tara...and Spike too. He deserves some payback, right?

As it is, I am totally bruised and sore and generally feeling yucky. The doctor insisted on keeping Tara in the hospital for observation, like I couldn’t observe her, but I can pick her up in the morning, which is good. 

I turn and snuggle in closer as he holds me tight, let’s me cry it all out. This is good too. I can’t help but be thrilled by the scent of him and I breathe him in deep.

“You could have been killed, Pet. I know you’re powerful, but you have to be careful. Glory maybe an 80’s glamour-girl reject, but she is also running around charged up and god-like.”

“I hate her.” I think the venom in my words surprises him, but he recovers quickly and grins.

“Good. Me too. Plan to see an end to her, I do.” He’s looking off into space, maybe thinking about what he wants to do to her, how he would kill her.

“Good. Me too.” And then his attention is on me. His hand comes up, cool fingers wiping away my tears. Just that simple touch has things churning inside me that just aren’t supposed to be churning. Earlier, I barely made it out of his crypt with my virtue still intact. Well, not intact, since Oz had that honor a while back, but still, I’ve been sans penis for quite sometime and Spike makes me want to try again. Suddenly, I’m not ordering from the vegan menu and it’s scary.

I use my hand on his chest as leverage and push myself into a sitting position. “I better go.”

“Why?” The frown is adorable and I’d be all mushy over it except for the fact that he’s growling just a little. He’s quiet about it, but the low rumbling is there.

“Because...I...You...we can’t. Tara...”

He sits up and slips off of the bed, lighting a cigarette before ascending the stairs. I know I’ve done something to upset him and I follow since I need to be up there in order to leave anyway.

Up top, he is heating blood, his whole being focused on the task, which means he is concentrating on every little thing that I am doing,

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought you had to leave?” His voice is quiet and although there is a deliberate absence of anger, I can feel it swimming around the room. He has such powerful emotions when he allows himself to feel them. No wonder he loved Drusilla for a century.

“Don’t be mean. Tell me why you’re upset.”

He lets his head fall forward and shakes it with a small laugh. 

“You should go, Red. I don’t want you here feeling guilty about your bird. What we do...it has _nothing_ to do with her, but you won’t see it.”

It’s my turn to frown. “How can my running to you, wanting you, not affect her? She loves me, thinks I love her...”

“Do you?”

“What? Of course I love, Tara!”

“So what do you want with me? Am I some bloody experiment? Your little fieldtrip into darkness? Something scary, but relatively safe, like the tigers at the zoo?”

“No! I lo...” I cannot say this. He will never understand. But his eyes sparkle and seek mine and I see the truth of my feelings reflected in him.

“You what?” he asks softly, his entire demeanor changing, mercurial. 

I’m afraid to say it. What if I’m wrong and he laughs at me? Or worse, gives me the talk. But the way he's gazing into my heart, I can’t deny it or lie. It would be insulting to him and I may not get this chance again, so I take a deep breath, which he probably finds scary, and go for it.

“Spike...Do you, you know, feel kinda like there’s more, a whole lot more, to what we’re doing than what we’re admitting to doing? I think I do and I think you do too, but I can’t be sure ‘cause you can be kinda difficult to read, but I’m getting better at it, you know, and I think I love you...If you love me, I mean. Well, I’d still feel like this even if you didn’t, but I’m really hoping you do since it would be totally awkward if you didn’t. So... do you?”

He smiles sweetly and my heart sinks. The talk is eminent and I feel the tears flooding my eyes when, through my blurry vision, I see him coming closer and his mouth hovers over mine for only a second before I’m set on fire by his lips, his hand, his body pressing against mine. His hand, powerful and determined, clenches in my hair and he moves me to his liking, delving deep and exploring me with his tongue. I’m dizzy and realize I need air. He must sense it too, because he lets me go, attacking my jaw and neck with his talented lips. All I can do is moan as he licks that spot where he bit me, making me wet for him and what I want him to do.

“Spike, please,” I beg, which kinda pisses me off that I actually want him bad enough to beg, but not so much that I stop, and I try to unbuckle his belt. “I need you more than anything...” I’m a big ole panting slut. 

Everything stops and he is holding me at arms length. I’m very confused and I take in those startling eyes as he pierces my soul. “Want you too, Willow. But if we do this, you’re mine.”

At this point I’ll agree to anything and do, nodding my head furiously while my blood pounds like thunder in my head. “Yes, yours. Now, no more teasing,” I groan as I finally get his pants open and reach inside.

And this is how I become the consort of a vampire.


	13. Perfect in the Dark

It’s a scary and wonderful place to be, under Spike’s protection and the focus of his intensity. As his eyes travel over me I can feel heat rising and my bloody bubbling and everything we did last night rolls over me in waves as I clench around the ghost of his presence. But I can’t respond or be satisfied. We are on the run, in a raggedy old motorhome that Buffy and Spike...procured. How? I don’t ask and can’t bring myself to care.

The ride is bumpy and hot and I’m tired already. Everyone is trying not to blame her, but I know they could and maybe they should. So I carry Tara’s guilt because she can’t. She gave Dawn away to Glory. Accidentally, of course, but the result is the same and we have left Sunndydale.

Spike drives for a while and it’s easier for me because I don’t have to look at him while taking care of my sweet girl. She is totally unaware of what is happening around her and I have to remind her to eat, but being subjected to his attention while pretending I’m not craving him is more than I can handle.

When Giles takes over behind the wheel, Spike comes to sit on the floor by Dawnie and I pretend to read. Xander is Xander and makes everything worse, but Spike seems immune to his jibes so I don’t bother intervening. The blonde is no stranger to a tongue lashing and gives much better than he gets, usually. Today is no exception, but it’s grating on my nerves and I wish, but never out loud, that Xander would just let it go. I’m even kinda glad when he looks car sick and runs to the front. I am such a bad friend.

But at least it’s quiet now.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

We are in an old abandoned gas station. Giles is hurt, very much so and after they put him on the counter, I try to do a healing spell on him but he’s not getting better. Just not worse...yet.

But the idiotic knights keep at it and in the process we capture one. It ends when I erect a barrier around the building, keeping us safe for a little while.

And now we are waiting...for them to what...get bored and go to the movies or something? Tara has dozed off finally so I go to him while I have a moment’s peace. He’s sitting in the gloom, his back against the wall and eyes closed, but I know he’s not asleep.

“Giles won’t make it if we stay here much longer, luv.” He informs me of this like I just asked him the day of the week, without concern or opening his eyes. It’s a fact and nothing more. 

“Let me see your hands.” 

He peeks out from behind his lids and raises an eyebrow, but complies. “My own Nurse Ratchet? Planning on spanking me?”

I laugh. “She was a pig, Spike. Find a better analogy or I won’t help you heal.”

“Save your magic, pet. We’ll need it to fight them buggers off.”

“I wasn’t planning on using magic,” I reply and pull down the turtleneck of my shirt, exposing the pulsing vein and the fresh mark from last night. “This works even faster.”

He swallows and looks around. Buffy, Dawn and Xander are interrogating the head knight person and Anya is watching over Giles.

“They catch us I’m as good as staked, pet.” He keeps his distance, but doesn’t want to and his eyes never leave my neck.

“They won’t. We are the last two people in the world they expect to be involved. Now take the blood, Spike, while we’re alone. You need to be at your best if we have to fight.”

“Temptress,” he says teasingly as he stands and pulls me into the shadows with him, his demon face coming into view. 

And for a few minutes it is terrifying and perfect here, in the dark, with nothing but the blood between us.


	14. Lines

Hey! What da ya know? Buffy’s catatonic and Spike’s on crack.

This is just perfect and all we need since Glory swooped in and took Dawn. I don’t know how she got through the barrier without me feeling anything. I feel so useless.

Apparently, Buffy thinks the solution is to just blank out on us and Spike keeps on ranting on about Glory being Ben which is just beyond retarded. Maybe he needs more human blood in his diet. So, on the way to Xander and Anya’s apartment, I stop at the hospital and _procure_ a small ice chest of the bagged stuff. I’ve noticed how much faster he heals and how much stronger he is because of it and don’t see anything wrong as long as the donors were willing.

And now I get to do this weird mind-walk with the slayer. 

It’s spooky and I am so not looking forward to it, because what if I see something weird or private and then we have awkward moments like back when Buffy could hear everyone’s thoughts. It took me weeks to get over that.

But I don’t really have a choice. They are relying on me to bring her back. Funny that. Me being the one under the real pressure. Normally, it’s her, which I guess may explain the girl interrupted act. 

I prepare by praying to the Goddess and light the candles, wishing Spike were here to keep me grounded. Without Tara, I need someone else, someone with power, to anchor me to this plane. But he’s gone to find Glory and, by some miracle, get Dawn, so I center myself and settle down for what I hope is a short visit into Slayerland.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Well, that was different. When we return to the Magic Box she is back in slayer form and as commanding as ever. I am so relieved. I help Tara to a seat and wait.

Giles is doing the British comfort thing and making tea. It’s May and it’s hot. What part of that isn't strange to him? I see Spike sitting at the table by Xander, and smile. He gives a small one back. I feel reassured somehow, that he is not angry at me for tending to Tara, that we are okay, and I move on to listening to Giles.

We finally get a break. Spike and Xander snagged a box from a Glory groupie which contains the text for the ritual Glory plans to use to open the door to her dimension. The fact that those two worked together to accomplish a task really shows how desperate we are.

Giles goes on and on and the news is mixed. 

“Um ... Glory ... plans to open a ... dimensional portal ... by way of a ritual bloodletting.”

“Dawn’s blood,” Buffy confirms.

“Yes...Once the blood is shed at a certain time and place ... the fabric which separates all realities will ... be ripped apart."

Spike doesn’t look at me while I hold Tara. I wish that he would. If I can’t have his hands on me, at least his eyes, weighted and heavy in their visual caress, would give me the comfort that I seek. I want to ask him about it, but it will have to wait. 

“So, how do we stop it?” For Buffy it’s always been that simple. How does she stop it? And then she stops it. 

“The portal will only close once the blood is stopped ... and the only way for that to happen is, um ...Buffy, the only way is to kill Dawn.”

Oh...I’m not seeing that as going over real big.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Blood is life, lackbrain. Why do you think we eat it? It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead...Course it's her blood,” he whispers that last part and I wonder if he is talking about me.

I want to go to him, let him know that it’s okay. They don’t get it and I can’t really say I’m some expert, but I’m learning really quickly about what blood means. It is life. I feel it each time his fangs are in me, my life offered to him, our essence tangled beyond separation with the taking. It has me curious and I want to taste his, to see how it makes me feel to have him inside me in that way.

Giles and Buffy are arguing. I suspected as much, and I jump when he yells. Even Spike looks surprised, but is smart enough to stay quiet.

But talk of killing Dawn, _killing_ her, to stop this ritual is actually on the table and it saddens me as much as I know it’s necessary. I just hope Buffy doesn’t lose it again. As it is, she’s about to cry.

“We'll solve this,” I tell her. “We will. Don't have another coma, okay?”

So ideas are tossed around and we come up with a plan. Surprisingly, Anya has one of the more useful contributions and I am a little less shaking at the knees. I can’t say it’s the best plan, but it certainly isn’t the worst.

Spike dips away down into the basement while they are still hashing out details, his eyes trailing over me as he disappears. My heart lunges in my chest, eager to have me follow him. Glancing around, I see that no one is paying attention to me, what a surprise, so I slip away as well.

It is dark down here. He intentionally does not turn on a light, so I carefully and quietly make my way down. Cool hands encircle my waist as I reach the bottom step.

“Missed you, Willow,” he says as he inhales deeply, taking in everything he can about me. I shiver with a panicked delight as his tongue and lips tease along my jaw before attacking my mouth.

“You too. It’s just been so crazy,” I gasp as he turns me around and rumbles in my ear.

“Not much time, Red...Wanna be inside you. If it all ends, I want you to be the last good thing I feel.”

“Spike....” I whisper, trying not to cry out. Blood is rushing everywhere, making me hot and insane. His fingers are working my jeans open and before I can get my brain to work and decide if this is a good idea, my pants and panties are down to my ankles and I’m being bent over and now don’t care if it’s a good idea or not. A cool hand runs up under my shirt to feel the skin there, and he groans, grinding his equally disrobed hips into me. His erection plays between my legs and I bend at the knees enough to let him inside. He thrusts in easily, the resistance of my tightness just perfect. This will hurt, but only in a good way. I never understood that with Oz, it just kinda hurt. 

I brace my hands against the wall to help take the brunt of the pounding. He’s as gentle as his demon allows and the bleeding wrist that appears in front of my face is as frightening as it is inviting. 

“Drink, luv. Only a little.”

There’s nothing I won’t do for him, I think. So I do drink, pulling slowly on the slightly warm, slightly tangy, slightly sweet fluid, while his fangs slide into my neck painlessly. I feel it as he floods me and I come as well, my legs buckling as I succumb to the wave. He holds me up and eases out, turning me around to kiss me again.

“We’re bonded now...Stronger together for it. I don’t plan on losing you, understand?” I’m being shaken, not in a mean way, but he wants my attention.

“Yes,” I say, not sure if I do, but it seems to ease the pressure on my arms and his mind. His lips brush against my forehead and I can feel him smile.

“Bloody hell, Red, all these years I wasted. Should have been you all along.” He pulls his pants up and then helps me with my clothes. “I’m inside you now. Use it.”

“Spike, I don’t know...what do you mean?”

He only smiles and it’s soft and sweet and adoring. “My blood...in you. It’ll make your magic more powerful. Can you feel it? Feel me?”

I focus and quickly pick up something different, wild and feral and strong, coming from a place inside me that was previous quiet and peaceful. I nod, wide-eyed and excited at the prospect, but feeling like I’ve gone beyond a point of no return, crossed some line I didn’t know was there. His kiss takes away any qualms for now and I melt into him again before he pulls away.

He goes up first and starts in on Xander. It’s affected; a diversion so that I can sneak back into the room undetected. I hate the secrecy and can see myself shouting how I feel from a roof top, but then said roof would probably collapse and I’d break my neck and not so much with the happy ending, so I kept quiet and do what is needed to steal another moment in the shadows.


	15. How Can I Tell Thee

I have to hold back the tears as my poor sweet baby walks along in front of me, stumbling as she pulls at her cast. Everyone else follows a short distance behind, saying nothing, but I feel their sympathy. A big old sigh leaves me as I try to get calm and focused. I hope what I have planned works. I don’t know what will happen to Tara if I fail. Rounding a corner, we arrive at some rickety, Nightmare-Before-Christmas tower.

It’s time for the Willow show and I ask for courage. Spike, sweet as he is, offers me a swig of something that I’m pretty certain will melt my insides, but I decline. I need a clear head and a clear heart.

Apparently it’s the crazy convention because a slew of Glory’s brain-suck victims are here, working like manic little elves on the tower. I’m not exactly sure what they are doing to improve it. It’s obviously a structure of architectural genius already. 

I can feel myself rolling my eyes at myself for these thoughts, but I can’t seem to stop myself from thinking them. When Tara enters the construction area I know I'd better get it together right now and follow as everyone else gets in place. 

Whatever programming Glory has instilled in Tara has her immediately going to work, her cast tossed aside. The hell bitch herself arrives and I get real pissed as her filthy hand clamps down on my sweetie.

“You...what are you doing here?” Glory demands. 

She doesn’t see as I approach from behind, thank the goddess. I really need as many breaks as I can get. 

“She’s with me,” I say as I put my hands on both her head and Tara, willing the essence of Tara to return to its rightful place. The power surges through me and we all get blasted back on our asses. But I know it worked as I struggle to keep from passing out.

Around me I can hear the fighting, Buffy, or the Buffybot if the plan is going right, making quipping comments, and everyone else has jumped into the fray. I crawl to Tara and she’s just laying there and for a second I think I was wrong, she is still gone. And then she looks at me, really looks at me, and says my name and I feel my heart leaping for joy as I kiss and hug her tightly. 

“I found you....I will always find you.”

Even as I say this I can feel it, him, flowing through me, his glee from the fight a tangible thing until he and the others are trapped behind brick throwing minions.

I am snatched away from this by the sound of Dawn screaming for Buffy. Looking skyward, I think I see her at the top of the tower.

Crap! I want so badly to get up there, but it’ll take me all day to climb that thing. Spike, however, can be there is seconds. Nothing is ever fair!

Think, Willow, think!

_Someone’s up there._

Huh? Spike? Up there? I look and see someone else besides Dawnie. Was that his voice in my head?

_Spike...can you hear me?_

_Yeah. Loud and clear._

_There’s someone up there with Dawn._

_Yeah. Can’t tell who._

_Get up there. Go now!_

_Yeah, but..._

_Go!!_

He doesn’t hesitate again and I grab Tara’s hand, using her power to add to mine and the new power inside me. Instantly, as soon as I desire it, Glory’s minions and mindless are tossed aside, making a way for him to get up the tower without being knocked silly by flying mortar. 

I don’t have time to marvel at how easy it was to pull that off, or how talking to Spike in my head felt so natural and right. Tara is kissing me, holding me, and I’ve never felt so conflicted or scared. Spike is up there now; I can see him tussling with the other person. 

Closing my eyes, I picture myself in him, as part of his being, and send a bolt of my magic through him and into the creature he’s fighting. Tearing me from this supernatural union is the sound of a desperate and angry scream. It’s punctuated by a body hitting the ground a few feet away from me. It’s a small old man, grandfatherly and sweet, but broken and bleeding some green liquid, not dead yet unable to move. Everything considered, he is having a really bad day.

I pull away from Tara’s embrace and walk over to him while he looks up at me, not pleading but resolved. I recognize that look and know that if I let him go, he’ll make us pay later. There is an axe, one of ours maybe, but maybe not. I hope it belongs to this hellish construction crew that Glory created. It would be fitting.

“The Great One will find a way, young lady. This is just a temporary setback,” he avows weakly.

I nod and return his determined look with one of my own before raising the blade and bringing it down quickly, slicing clean through his neck and into the concrete below. There is a strange joy in me that I wisely attribute to Spike just as I turn to see him carrying Dawn down the ramshackle structure. 

Dropping the troll-god hammer, Buffy rushes to them and takes Dawn from the vampire, her eyes teary with gratitude. He ducks his head, almost bashfully, and turns away, our eyes meeting as he does. His gaze drifts down to my mouth and just as I think he’ll devour me with his stare, he swoops in and uses his lips instead. The kiss is full of pent up passion, fear of losing each other, and a longing that is so deeply ingrained in me that I wonder at how I ever considered myself in love before. I hear gasping in stereo, Tara and Buffy I think, but it’s too late to stop this and I don’t want to anyway. 

Soon we’ll have to face them. I’ll have to answer to Tara, and Spike to will have to answer to everyone, but for now, we have each other and this moment and I won’t cheapen it by being ashamed.


	16. Crazy Scary Love

She won’t even look at me. The entire walk back none of them look at me. They do, however, hold nothing back when it comes to casting hateful glares at Spike.

My arm is hurting at the shoulder from when Xander yanked me away from being “molested by the evil dead,” but I don’t say anything. I just want to get this over with. Giles clucks, apparently disappointed, but is too British to say anything.

Yet.

The Magic Box comes into view and a feeling of dread covers me, not so different from just before I approached Glory earlier. I glance at them and know that this is the calm before the storm, and as soon as we are behind closed doors all hell will break loose. 

 

We’re herded into separate rooms, me into the training room as Spike is manhandled down the stairs and into the basement. I hear him, protesting, but he’s unable to do more than that without getting a searing headache. I’m just glad Buffy’s in here with me and not down there being the stake-happy slayer that I know her to be. I don’t know where Anya is. Knowing her, she’s off in some corner with Dawn, humming and counting money. 

“I knew it, you know.” Tara’s voice startles me for a second because no one has really spoken since we arrived. There were just the coordinated and seemingly preplanned motions of splitting Spike and me apart.

I can’t find the words to fix this and fight to keep the tears back, knowing they won’t help.

“I even told you. The day of the fair...you were being weird, Willow. Had been acting funny for a while. Always going to him, finding reasons to see him and I just KNEW it,” she hisses. I never knew she could hiss.

“Willow, what’s she talking about?” Buffy steps away from where she has been leaning against the wall.

“I...when your mom...” I start, but Tara interrupts and she is more aggressive that I ever imagined she could be. 

“What I mean,” she says, staring at me but talking to Buffy, “is that Willow has been running around with Spike for weeks. Every chance she got, she went to that crypt or patrolled with him...she even missed class hanging out with him.”

Buffy turns slowly, her mouth set in that grim mask of disapproval. “Wills?”

“He was alone and he cared, about your mom I mean. And I saw him at her grave...”

“He was probably gloating, Willow!” Buffy yells, but I know she doesn’t mean it. Even she knows that they had an odd, unexplainable affection for each other.

“Stop it. Don’t do that to her,” I tell Buffy. 

“And what about me, Willow? While I was getting tormented by Glory where did you run off to? Was it him?”

I open my mouth to deny it. “Tara...” That’s as far as I get. I can’t lie to her now, and I am not ashamed of Spike. “I didn’t know what Glory was doing until after I left his crypt.”

“Wait.” Again I am being snatched by my arm, this time by a super powered Buffy who is a little emotionally unstable at the moment. “You’ve been going to his crypt? What the hell is going on, Willow? Because I really don’t get you anymore.”

I try to pull away, but her grip is firm. “You’re hurting me. Let go.” She does quickly, almost startled, and I move away from them both. I want to send Buffy out; this is between Tara and me, and it's none of her business. But that would free her up to go downstairs with Spike and I’d rather not have that happen more than I mind her butting in.

Amazingly, I can feel him, at least I think so. His mood is one of calm irritation and I imagine that he’s being lectured at by Giles. I’m sure this is no picnic for him either and I just wish we were together. My bottom lips starts to tremble and I think the crying is about to begin when something warm and wonderful washes over me, pushing the tears away from the brink. It’s him doing this, his way of letting me know it’s okay and that he is with me. 

“Did you fuck him?” And it gets weirder and weirder. Hearing such crass words from Tara has me stunned as I string together the actual meaning, but the delay is enough to affirm her suspicions.

The slap is jarring and when I come to my senses, Buffy is holding Tara back while she spits venom at me. “You and your lesbo street cred speech! While I was being screwed by her you were screwing him?”

Tears do fall now because I know we can’t get past this. I’m such a terrible girlfriend. “I tried to kill her for what she did to you. She almost killed me in the process and I did find a way to get you back. I’m sorry for this Tara. I....didn’t plan any of it, but it happened. Spike happened.”

“So I’m supposed to what...forgive and forget?” 

“No.” I turn to the door of the training room a second before it flies open, revealing Spike. Xander and Giles are hot on his trail, but he gets to me before they get to him and gathers me in his arms.

“Don’t lay another soddin’ hand on her,” I hear him say, but I can’t see anything since I’ve buried my face in his chest, chicken that I am.

“Spike, let her go,” Giles is saying.

“No, I won’t. I’ve listened to your speech and I’m done. Someone hit her and I’m taking her out of here.”

“You aren’t going anywhere with her.” Buffy’s voice is deep and quiet and I just know she’s twirling a stake so I lift my head and glare at her as Dawn appears behind them, curious.

“Yes...he is. I’m sorry this has everyone so upset, but only Tara has a right to be. Please, just let us go.”

Xander and Giles both visibly deflate, stepping out of the doorway as if conceding defeat for the moment. Buffy, however is standing her ground, staring Spike down, and I give her one more look, pleading with her to back off. I’m sure I’ll hurt her if she goes for him and I don’t want it to come to that.

“How did you know she got hit?”

Tara’s question is quiet, but they all hear and perk up again at the prospect of arguing some more. It’s like they are getting a happy from all this angst.

Spike purses his lips and is trying to avoid the real answer. “Vampire hearing, pet.”

“Yeah, but how did you know it was Willow that got hit?” Buffy chimes in and it becomes a free for all with everyone speculating and firing questions at him as he blatantly ignores the noise.

“It’s the bond.” Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about our helpful and extremely ill-timed ex-vengeance demon that happens to know all about every freaking thing demonic that ever existed!

Buffy and Xander are slower on the uptake, but Giles is a quick study and I see it as that alter ego of his settles in for a visit. He moves toward Spike and I get in his way.

“No! Stop this! He just saved Dawn. Buffy was ready to kill us all, let us all die, let the world end to save her, but he did it. So leave him alone. What we’ve done is our business and I won’t let you hurt him.”

They all look duly ashamed, but I know it won’t last long. Tomorrow they’ll be back to being self-righteous and judgmental.

Spike knows it too and uses their guilt to our advantage. “Come on, Red. I’ll walk you home,” he says, as we step past everyone carefully. Dawn stops him and pulls him down to her height to plant a kiss on his cheek. It takes everything in Buffy not to snatch her sister away, but she manages. Hypocrite.

We leave without another word, but I know that I won’t let him go back to that crypt. I don’t trust Giles, Buffy or Xander to not go there to _convince_ him to stay away from me. Even Tara seems capable of hurting him. I saw a side of her I did not know existed, and while it was fascinating, I could do without the violence.

“That went better than expected,” he announces as he drags a cigarette pack from his pocket.

“What?” I stop and glare up at him. “Were you in the same place as me? Tara hates me. They all think I’m crazy and they wanna _kill_ you!” He’s just smiling.

“They’ve always wanted to kill me, pet.” He starts walking again and goes about lighting a cigarette. “So your bird, she’s the one who hit you, yeah?”

I pout a little. “Not my bird anymore, but she popped me pretty good.”

“That she did. I’ll give her that one. But she ever touches you again, I cut off the hand she uses, chip or no chip.”

I come to a halt again, staring at him. He is very serious, and I better handle this now before he does something.

“You can’t hurt them, Spike. I mean it. She was upset and the slapping was a bit overboard, but your brand of revenge is extreme as well, so leave that kind of thing to me, okay?” I pat his chest through the fabrics and he is giving me a weird smile.

“Sure, luv.” He takes my hand and starts walking again. “So where to, my place or yours?” 

“Mine, definitely,” I laugh.

Strolling along, he talks about everything and nothing, seeming to be over anything that the gang may say or do already. I know it’s a show, can feel his annoyance at being subjected to their opinions and wrath. But he puts on a good show, one that he has become skilled at performing. I listen to his chatter, pleased that he is comfortable enough to vent, and I know we’ll be okay. 

Tara is my past. A lovely past, and I don’t regret that time, just how it ended, how I hurt her. But Spike, this amazingly complicated and surprisingly sweet vampire, is my future, and I greet him with open arms and an accepting heart. It’s scary in a way, the idea of loving him, and I wonder if I am crazy. Yet this feels too good, and if it means I’m crazy, then lock me up in my padded cell.

Just make sure the blonde vampire has the key.


End file.
